


chaabar

by MageOfCole



Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [18]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha-17 Needs A Hug, Alpha-17 is a big softy, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Clone Children, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Decommissioning (Star Wars), Death Threats, Gen, Headcanon, Hurt CT-7567 | Rex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kamino is terrible!!, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Pre-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Protective CC-2224 | Cody, Rex and Keeli are batchmates, Threats of Violence, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: (be afraid of)CT-7567 is the mutant, the mistake, and he knows too well what the Longnecks do to mistakes. He feels like his heart is clawing out of his chest, like his stomach is twisting itself into knots - he doesn't want to be decommissioned.(No.18 Panic! At The Disco)
Relationships: Alpha-17 & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, Keeli & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949908
Comments: 45
Kudos: 277





	chaabar

He can’t breathe.

Tucked inside the darkest corner of the maintenance closet, 7567 knots his fingers into pale blond curls and _pulls_ , trying to ground himself as he wheezes. Tears are hot on his bruised cheek, and it makes the swollen skin sting - Trainer Reau must have split the skin open with her gauntlet when she’d punched him - but, not ever the pain of the injury can distract the young cadet from his panic.

Eights is gone. Eights is gone, he’s been taken away for decommissioning, and 7567 is afraid. He’s next, he knows this, because he’s the only one left to take. He’s the mutant, the mistake, and he knows too well what the Longnecks do to mistakes. His entire was defective, all but one, and now there’s only two of them left. Keeli is perfect though, he has dark hair and dark eyes like every other clone, unlike the rest of their batch.

Keeli will be safe, but 7567 isn’t.

The scientists will be coming for him, 7567 knows, because trainer Reau had taken great amusement from telling him so. They’d come for him, and they’d take him to the labs - they’ll cut him open while he’s still awake to see where they went wrong. They’ll tie him down and make him watch as they put pieces of him into jars, and when they have all they need, they’d feed the rest of him to Trainer Vau’s striil. He’s so defective, they won’t even bother recycling him.

The memory of Trainer Reau’s voice has panic crawling up 7567’s throat like the bugs she had forced him to eat during survival training, with hundreds of legs and sharp pincers. He sobs harder, curling tighter around himself, breath catching in his throat and rattling in his chest. He itches and burns like there are _things_ under his skin, and his nails dig into his scalp. He claws, scratches, and hiccups - anything to make the panic go away.

He doesn’t want to be decommissioned.

He can’t breathe - can’t get enough air past the bugs in his throat. He feels like his heart is clawing out of his chest, like his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He doesn’t want to be eaten, he doesn’t want to be taken away.

Panicking as desperately trying to muffle his cries, 7567 is still aware of the door to his little closet opening, casting light over his huddled form. He curls tighter in on himself, trying to hide away from the eyes watching him, burning against his skin. Then, the light is gone, plunging the closet into darkness once more, and 7567 shakes in fear, hyper aware of another person’s breathing invading the space he had hidden himself in.

“Hey,” A voice nearly identical to his own speaks, and despite himself, 7567 finds himself relaxing at the comforting sound. “Hope you don’t mind, I’m looking for a place to hide too.” 7567 sniffles, pushing his face further into his arms. “Can I come sit?”

He hiccups, then shrugs, despite wanting to tell the other boy to go away. He’s a mutant, if another cadet actually wants to be near him, then there’s not actually anything he can do about it. He’s the lowest of the low, barely even a clone, nothing he wants matters.

There’s a shuffle of fabric, and 7567 knows without needing to see that the other cadet had sat down just outside of his arm’s reach. “Priest is on a warpath.” The other boy says cheerfully, “But I think _Baar’ur_ Gilamar is trying to stab him with a scalpel, so he won’t be looking for me for awhile - so I gave the medics the slip.” 7567’s breathing calms the longer the other cadet speaks, and he lets himself relax as his voice washes over him. “Alpha won’t be very happy with me -” 7567’s breath catches, “- he says I shouldn’t be running around with a head wound.”

Only CCs trained with the Alpha-class clones. There’s a CC hiding in the closet with him. He wasn’t supposed to be near the CCs; he’s a CT, they’re not supposed to be around him, they’re not supposed to talk to him unless it’s to give orders. Even worse - he’s a _mutant_ CT sitting within touching distance of a CC.

“You’re a CC.” He whispers in horror, panic cresting once more. Trainer Reau would be so angry with him if she knew he was contaminating a CC.

“Well, _yeah_ .” The other cadet says easily, like it _wasn’t a big deal_. “I’m CC-2224, who are you?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” 7567 says numbly.

CC-2224 scoffs, “Why not?”

7567 shakes fearfully; Trainer Reau was going to punish him so bad for this. She’d probably send him right to the Longnecks - he’d prefer another beating to being sent to the scientists. “You’re a _CC_.” He says again, voice growing shrill, trying desperately to make this CC understand.

“Yeah.” CC-2224 repeats slowly, but there’s something calculating in his tone. “What about it?”

“I’m a _CT_.”

“So?” The Command-classer asks, suspicious now. “I talk to CTs all the time.”

“During _training_!” 7567 cries, tugging on his hair. “We’re not supposed to talk to you outside of training!”

“What?” CC-2224 sounds stunned, “ _Why_? That’s ridiculous!”

7567 just starts sobbing again. He was going to be decommissioned for this, Trainer Reau was going to be so angry.

“Please don’t cry.” CC-2224 says in alarm, and a small hand lands on his arm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“They’re gonna decommission me!” 7567 wails, and hands pull his fingers away from his hair before he can start pulling on the ugly curls again. He squirms, flinches, but CC-2224 holds tight, reeling him in so that he could wrap his arms around him. 7567 finds himself pressed against CC-2224’s chest, his head tucked under the other cadet’s chin. Hands rub his back, warm and grounding. At a loss and overwhelmed, his emotions shutting down, 7567 melts into CC-2224’s hug, heart racing and tears on his cheeks.

He doesn’t know what to do with this.

“It’s okay, _vod’ika_.” CC-2224 promises, voice hard. “I won’t let them decommission you.”

He wants to ask what CC-2224 could do to stop the Longnecks if they came to take him, but there’s determination in the other cadet’s voice. There’s a hard conviction to his words that chases away any doubt that he wouldn’t stop them. 7567 finds himself _believing_ him; he _wants_ to believe him.

“Let’s go find Alpha.” 2224 says, and, to his confusion, he gently headbutts 7567. “He’ll help.”

* * *

Alpha-17 doesn’t know what to think of him, that much is obvious to 7567 when CC-2224 drags him into his batch’s bunkroom. The older clone tears into 2224 for leaving the infirmary with his injury first, a massive thing hidden behind bacta bandages that hides one half of 2224’s face, and 7567 is shocked that the other cadet - he's barely taller than 7567, they’re probably in the same growth cycle, even if 2224 is a little older - could still move around and speak properly with the wound.

Then, once his cutting words for 2224 dry up, Alpha-17 turns to 7567, dark eyes studying him with growing interest. His attention is constantly pulled back to 7567’s hair, but there’s no disgust in his expression, something 7567 had grown accustomed to, but instead it’s calculation. “How old are you, cadet?”

7567 snaps to attention, “Three, sir!”

Alpha-17 hums, circling 7567 like a predator, and 7567 turns to always keep him in eyesight. He’d learned that much from Trainer Reau, and it seems to amuse the Alpha-classer. “Must be good, huh, vod’ika - to have made it this far with hair like that.”

“I’d like to think so.” 7567 says before he can stop himself, then kicks himself - Keeli was always saying he never thought before he spoke, and it got him into a lot of trouble with their trainers. But Alpha-17 doesn’t lash out, instead he snorts.

Next to him, 2224 grins, “What d’you think, Alpha?”

“I think you put yourself into danger you didn’t need, kid.” Alpha-17 says sharply, turning a glare on the smaller clone, but 2224 only lifts his chin stubbornly.

“He said they were going to decommission him.” CC-2224 retorts, “That’s not fair!”

This is the wrong thing to say.

“ _Life’s not fair, Kote_!” Alpha-17 thunders.

The room goes quiet - there’s horror in 2224’s squadmates’ expressions, and agony in Alpha-17’s. 2224 himself just looks confused as the silence grows.

“Who’s Kote?” Once again, 7567’s tongue gets away with him, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He’s not supposed to ask questions.

“Doesn’t matter.” The older clone says harshly, and 7567 flinches. Alpha-17 stays tightly wound for a moment, before he lets out a rattling breath and forces himself to relax, his expression rearranging into a carefully neutral mask. “You have potential, kid.” He tells him, then glances at 2224 for a moment, “I’ll do what I can.” Alpha-17 grumbles, rubbing a hand aggressively through his short hair. “Now get out of my sight.”

7567 bolts.

(The next day, 7567 and Keeli report to their training room, but Trainer Reau is nowhere in sight. Instead, an older clone stands in front of them, arms crossed over his muscular chest and a sharp grin on his face. He's as tall as Alpha-17, and just as heavily muscled, and it almost hurts to look up at him; his dark hair is just a touch longer than regulation length, and there's a deep scar scored across the bridge of his nose, more visible scars peeking out from his training reds. He had seen fights, and he'd walked away from them in one piece.

“Hey there, _verd’ike_.” The clone says, voice darkly amused. “A-77 at your service - or Fordo. But you can call me Captain, or Sir.” His smile grows wider, more dangerous, and 7567 swallows nervously, Keeli shifting awkwardly next to him. “You answer to _me_ now.”)


End file.
